Healing Hearts
by panskiss123
Summary: "What did Haymitch tell me when he brought me back to 12? "We all deal with grief in our own way, mockingjay, and you need to find your own way." What if I don't want to deal with it? What if it's too much to deal with?" One-shot. Rated M for dark themes, suicide attempts, and explicit love scenes! Do NOT read if easily z R&R!


I shudder at the silence. Tense, awkward silence that I don't know how to banish or break. I glance sideways and see Peeta continue to quietly dry the dishes that I hand him. He insisted on helping me and after I refused several times, I just gave up and let him help. Greasy Sae left awhile ago. I guess she thought we would want to talk. But so far it's just been this.

Silence.

That's what greets me every morning, for several weeks since he has been back. I had hoped we could talk and start to heal. But all it is, is silence.

I clear my throat and he starts but he still doesn't say anything.

"Um," I finally choke out, my eyes on his still form. "Th-thank you. For the cheese buns." He nods slowly.

"They're your favorite. Real or not real?" I close my eyes. I hate this game. We thought this up during the War, when we were in the Capitol and he was having trouble with what was real and what wasn't. Now he's here, in my kitchen, playing the same damn game. Because his mind is still torn apart. He still has trouble differentiating what's happened and what the Capitol planted in his mind. And I'm the only person who can help him piece it together but I'm just too damaged to actually do it.

"Real," is all I say and he nods again. When I hand him the last plate, he carefully wipes it dry and returns it to the cabinet. I watch him wipe his hands on the towel and then he picks up his bag from the floor.

"I should get home. I'll see you tomorrow, Katniss." I nod, my throat too dry to say anything. He doesn't even look at me as he opens the door and exits my house. I watch him through the window as he makes his way back to his own house, right across from mine, and I fight the tears that have been threatening to spill for days now.

I hate this. Why am I not dead? I should be dead. It would be better for everyone if I were dead. No one needs me. The only person I was surviving for was Prim and now…

Now the tears fall. I fall to the couch but miss it, and instead, hit the floor. I don't even wince as my kneecap shatters against the wood planks. I barely register the pain. The pain is welcome. It keeps me sane. Isn't that what Peeta told me once, in the Capitol? He insisted on being handcuffed and insisted that the pain helped him focus and stay in the present.

But I don't want to stay in the present. I shouldn't even be alive. I should be dead, and my sister should be living the life I now have. My beautiful, brave, sweet little sister, whose life was robbed too soon. Whose life was possibly robbed by my best friend. The bombs that had murdered my sister were created by the man I had once called my only friend. I haven't seen that man in months. He moved to District 2, and hasn't once checked on me. I can't say I blame him. I doubt anyone truly cares if I live or die. If I die, it's just another story for Panem. The Mockingjay passes. The Girl on Fire is extinguished.

What did Haymitch tell me when he brought me back to 12? "We all deal with grief in our own way, mockingjay, and you need to find your own way." What if I don't want to deal with it? What if it's too much to deal with?

After hours of being here on the floor, I find that I don't want to be alone. I think about visiting my mentor but remember is probably passed out in a drunken slumber again. Sae is probably at the Hob. Hazelle is busy with her new job. That leaves one person.

Struggling to my feet, I pick up my jacket and wrap it tightly around my thin frame. When I go outside, I shiver and pull it tighter around me. My father's warmth envelops me and I make my way over to Peeta's house.

I knock on the door several times and hear nothing. I decide I should just return to my house and endure the loneliness but then I feel fear. What if something has happened to him? What if he went into a flashback and hurt himself? I try the knob and it creaks open. I step inside and look around.

"Peeta?" I continue to call his name as I tentatively walk through his house. As I climb the stairs, I remember that I should not be here. This is not my house and I am invading on his privacy. Still, I want to make sure he is alright.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I think I hear voices coming from the room across from me. The door is open and I peer inside.

It is clearly Peeta's studio. There are easels and paints and thousands of pictures strewn around the room. An easel is set up in the middle of the room and Peeta sits in a chair, his arms wrapped around himself and rocking back and forth. His eyes are closed and he is muttering to himself. I don't want to surprise him so I knock on the door gently and say his name.

His eyes shoot open and he looks taken aback but not angry.

"Katniss. What are you doing here?"

"I…I'm sorry. I knocked but you didn't answer…I just…I just wanted…"

"What did you want?" He looks curious as he blinks his brilliant blue eyes up at me. They are much clearer than I remember. The anger and hatred are gone but there is still a sadness clouding them.

"I just wanted to make sure you were ok." I see him exhale and he rises from his chair.

"I'm fine. I didn't hear you knock, I'm sorry. But um, you should probably go." He glances quickly back at his painting and then back at me. I bite my lip and take a step back. From the looks of his flushed face and his damp curls, he is fighting a flashback. Who knows how long he has before he wants to rip out my throat?

Should I insist on staying and just let him kill me? No, I chastise myself. If Peeta woke up to find that he had murdered me, he would not be able to live with himself. Even the Peeta who is filled with poison and hate could not bring himself to take my life.

"Are you sure," I ask in a very meek voice. His brow raises and I shuffle my feet. "I mean, I was just…really lonely. I don't want you to be feeling the same." He cocks his head at me and looks considering but then he glances at his painting again and looks guilty. I frown at his reaction.

"What are you working on?"

"What I'm always working on. My nightmares." Before he can stop me, I move around to look.

At first I'm horrified. But then, I sort of expected it. This is how he sees me. With red eyes, dripping fangs, beautiful but deadly. I think there is blood on my claws. Probably from ripping out a heart, maybe his.

He stands there watching me, waiting for a reaction. I feel my heart falling out of my chest. I can't stop the heavy breathing or the damn tears.

"Katniss?"

"I…I should go." I move to leave but he grabs my hand.

"Katniss, I just paint what I see. It's a nightmare but it's not how I see you anymore."

"In your sleep you do," I say and I hate how weak my voice sounds. "In your dreams, I'm this heartless creature who will torment you and destroy you. The poison that floods through your veins will never let your heart beat like it once did for me. You will never be my Peeta again." His hand on mine shakes and his eyes well up with tears. Way to go, Katniss. Hurt him. Again. Just like you always do.

"I'm…I'm trying, Katniss. But you know so much has changed-"

"I know. That's why I don't blame you, Peeta. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Blinking back tears, I run from the room and the horrible paintings. I ignore his pleading voice as I run back to my own house. I half expect him to follow me but I am relieved when he isn't. And then once I'm inside, I remind myself that he is tired. He is exhausted from running after me, as he has always done. And why should he? Peeta was everything that's good and perfect in this messed up world and thanks to me, he has been destroyed. He has been changed. He can try, as he says he is, but he will never be the same.

And it's that thought that makes me grab my hunting knife from my bag and go upstairs. I stand in front of my bathroom mirror and stare at my reflection. I stare for so long that my face becomes just a jumble of shapes. My hands go to my clothes and then they drop to the floor. I continue to stare at my naked form.

A fire-mutt. That's what I am. The burn scars wrap around my body, which is thin and I see my ribs poking out. They travel up my arms and my neck and then make their way down my stomach and stop around my knees. My hair is starting to grow back but still too short for a braid. My eyes are grey and dull and even lifeless. Dark circles show underneath and my face looks thin and exhausted. My eyes travel over my form and I shake my head.

What could Peeta ever see in me? What could anyone ever see in a fire-mutt like me?

I pick up the knife and study the ridged blade. My father gave this knife to me, years ago. When I first learned how to hunt.

I think of my father, and how he never made it out of that mine. I think of Prim, her sweet lovely face catching fire. I think of Finnick and the look in his sea-green eyes as the mutts decapitated him. I think of Rue, who was too young and too much like my sweet Prim. I think of Cinna and the beauty that he created with a piece of fabric, that ultimately ended him. I think of Annie, who is raising her son without a father. I think of Johanna, who is forever changed from the Capitol. I think of my mother, with a look of permanent grief etched on her face. I think of all of the ones I killed in the Games, all the people who stood by my side and died in the Capitol, all of the people who fought and lost their lives in the War.

And lastly, I think of my boy with the bread. How haunted he looked when he first came to 13, how his hands felt around my throat, how my lips felt against his, how his hands shook in mine.

How he stares at me from across the table every morning when he and Sae come for breakfast. How he looked at me just a few moments ago, when I saw the painting. He will never love me again. He will never be the same again. The boy with the bread is gone.

And it's my fault. He would never have been taken, if weren't for me. I had the chance to marry him and be a good little wife. Maybe I would have eventually discovered what I now know.

That I love him. That I have loved him for the longest time. That my heart has belonged to him since he threw me the bread. That our fates have been intertwined since that day. And that I am completely lost without him.

And now, because of me, he will never return that love. He can't. The Capitol destroyed it and they destroyed him. And even if he could ever love me, the Katniss he once loved is gone. Destroyed. Burned in the flames that took her sister.

I don't even look at what I'm doing but I feel the blade scratch against my skin, and then something much deeper. A searing pain spreads across my arm and I feel something wet drip down my wrist. I look down and stifle a cry.

The cut I have made is not clean but it's deep. And long. It stretches from my wrist almost to the inside of my elbow. Now that I'm seeing it, it hurts so much worse. I clench my fist as the blood drips onto the counter and I glance in the mirror.

The Girl on Fire has extinguished her own flames. The Mockingjay has clipped her own wings.

I feel like I should write a farewell letter to the people I love. Well, to the ones who may still care something for me. Haymitch, Sae, and Peeta. I shudder to think that Peeta will be the one to find me. It's with that thought that I go into my room and put on clean clothes. I don't notice the blood splatter as I move around the room. But soon, I feel weak. I soon forget about the pain and notice that my vision is getting hazy. I contemplate going downstairs to the couch but think, this will take them longer, to find me up here. No one will check on me until morning. By then, it will be too late.

I go to my dresser and take out my pearl. With a pang in my heart, I remember Peeta's words to me in the Quell.

"If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life. I would never be happy again."

But I shake myself, thinking things have changed. He doesn't feel that way anymore. I grab some paper and a pencil. I could probably still save myself. Run to Sae for some healing but I realize that I don't want it. I want to see my father and Prim again. I'll see Finnick and tell him he has a son. I'll see Rue and apologize for causing her death. I'll see Cinna and tell him the rebellion defeated the Capitol, and his mockingjay outfit caused riots.

And one day, hopefully far in the future, I'll see Peeta again. And he'll see me as he once did. The girl with the braids that he has loved forever.

So I pull my blanket down onto the floor with me and curl into a ball. I start to write a goodbye to Peeta but only get as far as his name before I drop the pencil. I hold the pearl tightly in my hands, and giving it a final kiss, I whisper a loving goodbye to the man who gave me this pearl and who has always had my heart.

* * *

><p>I open my eyes, feeling weak and confused. I'm in a bed but it's not my bed. The blankets are smooth and the pillows are full and fluffy. My arms lay by my sides and I can see one of them is heavily bandaged. I see red peering through the bandages, quickly reminding me of what I did.<p>

But…then how am I still here? Where is my father? Where is Prim? Finnick? Cinna? Rue? At the very least I expect Glimmer or Cato or Clove to come running at me, determined to make me pay. Where are they?

I try to sit up but I feel too weak to move. The pain in my arm is excruciating and I wince as I try to lift it. There is a wet cloth on my forehead. I'm scared that I have no idea where I am. Am I dead or am I alive?

I hear footsteps approaching and I close my eyes again, uncertain if I should let this nightmare play itself out or not. But I quickly recognize the uneven tread. The sound of a heavy prosthetic on the floor makes my heart quicken. I feel his hand smooth my hair back, then lift the cloth off my head.

"Here, I brought some more cold cloths," I hear another voice. I'm used to it being gruff but it's surprisingly gentle and soft.

"Thanks," says the other voice, which is shaky.

"She'll be ok, kid. Sae said we found her in time."

"Then why hasn't she woken up? Why is she still sleeping? WHY did she try to do that? How could she," I grimace at his fierce tone but my heart breaks when I hear his sobs.

"I don't know, kid. She wasn't well when she came back. I'd hoped…I'd hoped she'd get better when you returned. She lost a lot. Maybe…it just became too much."

"We all lost a lot. But that's not what upsets me. How could she think that I could go on without her? I thought she cared about me."

"She does, Peeta."

"She can't. She has to know if she dies and I live, that I'd have nothing to live for. That I'd follow her, even in death." I try not to gasp at his words and feel even worse for sitting here listening to his cries. I ache to open my eyes and tell him I love him. But I can't.

"Peeta, she doesn't think like that. She's selfish, she only thinks of herself."  
>Ouch. Even though Haymitch knows me well, it hurts to hear what my mentor really thinks of me.<p>

"But she wouldn't intentionally hurt you. She doesn't think you still feel the same way. What she did, she didn't do to hurt you. If anything, she feels guilty. I watched her, boy. I watched her hide in closets and fall apart when we found out you were captured. She was never the same. She blamed herself and she tried to go off to the Capitol to save you. She loves you, Peeta. She just wants you happy."

"And she thinks a life without her will make me happy?!"

"Maybe she doesn't think of it that way. Maybe she thinks that the life you both live now is too painful for the both of you. She may think it's easier to start over, to give you a chance to grieve and then move on. With her out of the picture, you can try to heal and give your love to someone else. Someone you can have a family with. She did make me promise, you know. That I would sacrifice her and save you."

Thanks Haymitch. I feel like he really does understand me and I wonder if that's because of all that he has lost too. I hear Haymitch's heavy footsteps on the floor and on the stairs. Peeta takes a deep breath.

"You listen to me," his warm breath on my face makes my heart race again. "I can't live without you. I won't. Yes it would be easier for you to give up and leave me here but since when have we taken the easy way out? You come back to me, Katniss. You come back and we will deal with this shit like we always have. Together." I feel his hand take mine and squeeze. Feeling sleep pull at me, I sink deeper into the blankets and I squeeze his hand right back. I think I hear him gasp but I am too far gone to notice.

* * *

><p>When I awake again, I think it's nighttime. I feel a cold wind and glance sideways to see the window open. Lying beside me, in a peaceful sleep, is Peeta. His long blonde curls settle on his cheeks as he snores softly and I notice that his arms are wrapped around me as I am pressed against his chest. There is a look of peace on his face when he sleeps. So much so that I don't want to disturb it. But I really need to use the restroom and don't know if I can move without waking him. I push back the covers with my good hand and move my feet over the bed. The pain in my arm almost makes my cry out and I sigh, shaking my head. Leaning over, I gently kiss his cheek. Finding that I love the feel of his skin under my lips, I give him another, then his nose, his eyelids, his chin, and finally his lips. They are as soft as I remember and my kiss lingers. I open my eyes to see crystal blue depths gazing up at me in surprise. They are hazy with sleep but he jerks back and I lean back a little, not wanting to send him into an episode.<p>

"Katniss?" he asks in disbelief. I merely smile and stroke his cheek with my fingertips. He reaches up and captures my hand in his, his eyes still wide.

"Um, Peeta, I'm sorry to ruin this moment but I really need to use the bathroom and I was hoping you could-?" he stares at me for a moment then snaps to and jumps out of bed. He comes around to my side and pulls the blankets back, his hand going to my back.

"Can you walk at all?"

"'I'm not sure," I confess. "I can try."

"You don't need to. I just don't want to…um, I want you to be comfortable." He rolls his eyes at his own words and I give him a warm smile. I try to stand but find that my legs have no strength. Peeta is there to catch me and he easily lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bathroom. He awkwardly sets me on the counter and rubs the back of his neck

"Umm…"

"I think I can take it from here. I'll yell if I need you." He nods and hurries out, closing the door behind him. I look down to see that I'm wearing a large T-shirt that swallows me whole. Bringing the material to my nose, I instantly recognize Peeta's smell. I bury my nose further in the shirt, inhaling cinnamon and dill and a hint of vanilla. I struggle off the counter and pull my underwear down with my good hand.

It's a challenge, I'll admit that. But I've been through worse. When I'm finished, I wash my hands and struggle to the door. Peeta is there on the other side, and catches me in his arms when I open the door and fall through it. He stares at me as he carries me back to bed and gently sets me down. I pull the covers back over me, shivering, realizing how cold the room is. Peeta glances at the window and gets up to close it but my hand darts out to grab his and I hold him there.

"It's fine," I say softly. But he shakes his head as he notices my teeth chattering.

"What would you like me to do," he asks gently. My hand doesn't release his.  
>"Hold me."<p>

Without hesitation, Peeta pulls the blankets back and climbs under them with me. He then takes me into his arms and holds me to his warm chest. I suddenly realize that he is bare-chested, wearing only flannel pajama pants and his skin is hot to the touch. I sink deeper into his warmth, closing my eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so weak."

"You've had a really bad fever," he says against my hair. "You've been sleeping for four days."

Four days? No wonder he was so scared. And no wonder I'm so hungry and so weak. My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly and in the silent room, it sounds like a monster. Peeta lets go of me and starts to climb out of bed but I grab his hand again, biting my lip.

"No. Please, just hold me."

"I will. Right after I stuff you with cheese buns. Stay here, I'll be back soon." He plants a kiss on my forehead and I watch him hurry from the room. I instantly miss his warmth and bury myself under the covers, wincing at the shooting pains in my arm.

I guess I've fallen asleep again because when I feel the blankets lift off my face, I can see the sun starting to show through the window. I wrinkle my nose and hear a soft chuckle.

"Hey sleepy head. I've been slaving over the oven for you so you'd better wake up and eat this delicious breakfast. You can go back to sleep after." I lean up and Peeta sets a tray on my lap and I immediately start salivating. He's made me a plate of eggs with cheese mixed in, some kind of meat, and a whole basket of warm cheese buns. I devour the whole breakfast and only two cheese buns remain, which I hand to Peeta. He smiles as he takes one and gestures for me to eat the other. My eyes lock on his as his smile transforms his face, making him look like the eager young boy I once knew. Not that we had lots of happy times together but during the Victory Tour, I feel like we got to know each other better. We shared a bed to chase away the nightmares and we talked deep into the night. I saw his real smiles and when he gave me reason to, he heard my real laughs. I find that all I really want to do is see that smile for the rest of my life. I will make it my mission to make this boy smile for as long as I live. Peeta moves the tray to the bedside table and grabs some pills, holding them out to me.  
>"What for?"<p>

"For the pain," he says gently. I try to hide my wince but he sees. Peeta definitely knows me, perhaps better than I know myself. I take the pills and swallow them down with water. He places the water on the bedside table and pulls me back into his arms. I pull the blankets around us and sigh at how content this warm little cocoon makes me. His hand lifts my injured arm and his lips leave soft kisses over the bandages. I suddenly flush with shame. How could I think of doing that to Peeta? Why am I now realizing how much it affects him? How much he would suffer if I weren't here.

"I'm sorry, Peeta," I say in a choked whisper and I feel him freeze beneath me. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't you ever think of trying something like that again," he says harshly but his arms tighten around me and I feel tears in my hair. He buries his face in my hair and I feel his body tremble.

"Don't ever leave me, Katniss. You tried to leave me. You almost did. I almost lost you." I turn my head to face him and kiss his wet cheeks. He turns and as I make to kiss his cheek again, his lips are what my lips meet. I blush and try to pull away but he follows. We are connected at the lips and his kisses are urgent and anxious. It's as if he thinks he is about to lose me. I reach up and hold his face in my hands as I deliberately slow down the kiss, making it lingering and sweet. He lets out a little moan as I break away to kiss his face, and he closes his eyes as I leave little kisses all over his skin.

"I'm sorry," I whisper again and he brings me down into the sheets, holding me close. I fall asleep just like that, nestled in his strong arms.

* * *

><p>I wake up again and immediately panic when I realize I'm alone. I call Peeta's name but receive no answer. I move to stand up but grimace in frustration when I realize how weak I am. Pathetic.<p>

"Come on Katniss. Get it together," I grit my teeth and stand, immediately grabbing the wall. I glance at the clock and see that I have slept through most of the day. So where is Peeta?

I stumble to the door and hear the bathroom door open. My knees are shaking as I make it out into the hallway and I find myself staring into Peeta's wide eyes. He is standing there with nothing but a towel around his waist and he frowns.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't find you," I try to explain and he shakes his head. He lifts me in his arms and I protest as my shirt is soaked from his wet chest. He takes me back to the bed and sets me on top of the blankets. As I fall back onto the bed, my foot catches on his towel and he grabs it as it starts to fall. His face is beet red as he looks at the floor.

"Stay there," he says gruffly as he hurries to his closet. When he comes out, he is wearing another pair of pajama pants. My eyes lock on his bare chest and he bites his lip. He grabs a white T-shirt and pulls it on.

"Are you hungry?"

"I think I'm still full of cheese buns," I say with a grin. He smiles and shakes his head. He sits at his desk for a moment and I examine the wet shirt I am wearing. When I look up, he is standing by the bed, holding something out.

"You found it," I say softly, taking the pearl and clenching my fist around it.

"You were holding it when we found you," he says, his voice breaking slightly. "I can't believe you still have it."

"Of course. I…I used to keep it in my pocket. I wouldn't let anything happen to it."

"So what about this?" I look up and see him holding out a piece of paper with his name written in messy scrawl. I wince as I see bloody fingerprints on the paper and a smear of blood. Peeta looks sick.

"I…I was writing you a…farewell." Peeta crumples the paper in his hand and shocked, I look up into his eyes to see them blazing down at me.

"No farewells," he says firmly. I bite my lip and stare at the floor. I feel his stare burning into me. I play with the blanket and notice the shirt is starting to stick to my skin.

"Do you have something else I could change into? I would love a bath," I say softly and his eyes soften. He digs through his drawers and hands me a pair of flannel pants and a shirt.

"I can go to your place and get some of your clothes, if you like." I surprise both of us by shaking my head.

"They smell like you," I attempt to explain. His brow raises but he doesn't say anything. I move to get off the bed again and he is by my side in an instant.

"Peeta, I have to walk sometime."

"How about when you're not weak from fever?"

"The fever is gone, I'm better now. I can't depend on you forever."

"Quit being stubborn and just accept the help!" I look up at him in surprise and he runs his fingers through his damp curls. I nod and I reach up to him and he sweeps me into his arms. Carrying me into the bathroom, he sets me on the toilet, then bends down to run the water in his tub. Giving me a playful grin, he lifts a bottle and pours some fruity-smelling liquid into the water and I see bubbles emerge. I don't think I have ever had a bubble bath and I can't help but release a giddy squeal. He looks at me in shock and a smile crosses his face. I cross my arms defensively.

"What?"

"Nothing. That was adorable." I scowl, which makes him laugh. I don't want to be adorable. But I do like the way he is smiling at me. It makes my heart flutter.

Ugh. When did I become **that** girl? He allows the water to run, then hurries into his room and comes back with his clothes. He sets them on the counter and turns to smile at me.

"If you need anything, yell for me, ok?" I nod and he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek as he leaves. I quickly pull off the shirt and underwear and lower myself into the tub. Making sure to keep my bandaged arm out of the water, I lean back in the spacious tub and sigh contentedly. His tub is wonderful. All my life I have bathed in a small bucket and when I became a Victor, I always took showers. But now I think I could fall asleep in here. As if he knows what I'm thinking, I hear a tap on the door.

"Don't drown in there, Katniss."

"Wasn't planning on it," I call back. I hear him chuckle and his heavy footsteps move away from the door. I thoroughly enjoy the bath and think I stay in there for hours.

When I finally decide it's time to wash my hair and get out, I groan in frustration. Washing my hair with one hand is difficult and I get irritated when I can't get the soapy suds out. I suddenly wonder who changed me when they found me? Haymitch or Peeta? I already know it was Peeta who cared for me. Haymitch would have left it up to him. He has already seen me then. I can imagine him being a perfect gentleman, closing his eyes as he dressed me. But now I need his help and I don't care anymore if he sees me or not. If he wants me to live so badly, he'll have to deal with this fire-mutt rather than the Katniss he remembers.

"Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"I um…I need your help. Washing my hair. Do you mind?" The door cracks a bit and I can't see his face.

"Of course not. Do you want to, um…get dressed?" I roll my eyes.

"No, I'm still in here. You can…close your eyes. If you want…" I trail off, unsure as to what I'm asking. Do I want him to see me? Do I care about what he may think? Surely he won't find me attractive. There is nothing attractive about my frail, scarred body.

"Do you want me to close my eyes, Katniss?"

"I don't care, Peeta," I say tiredly and find that I mean that. I need help and he is the only one here. In fact, he is the only one I want seeing me. It's not as if I will turn him on or anything. I see the door open more and I turn away so that all he can see is my back. He sucks in a breath and I turn to look at him but see that he is looking at the ceiling. He lowers to his knees and picks up the shampoo bottle, squeezing it into his hands and then he is running his fingers through my hair. I can't help but sigh at the feel of his fingers on my scalp and my head tilts back. He laughs softly in my ear.

"I can't wash it properly if you keep doing that."

"It feels good," I whine but lift my head back up and allow him to finish. He then removes the showerhead and brings it down so he can rinse my hair. I feel stupid; if I had known the showerhead did that, I wouldn't have needed to call him in. He'll think I'm completely useless. But we're silent as he finishes rinsing and he stands to put it back. He grabs the towel from the counter and kneels down.

"Can you stand?" I start to stand and he follows me up, holding the towel open for me. When I turn to face him, I see that is staring at the floor. I let him wrap me in the towel and I take it from him, holding it closed in front. He clears his throat and I notice his face is still very red. I bite my lip as I shift from side to side. The warm water really helped and I am feeling so much better. I stare at him, cocking my head to the side and see him glance quickly at me then back down.

"Peeta," I say softly but firmly. He looks me in the eyes and I suddenly remove the towel. I see him gulp and his eyes fly to the ceiling again.

"You can look. I don't mind."

"Katniss, you don't have to do this," he says to the ceiling, his voice strained. I frown, crossing my arms over my chest and suddenly feeling very foolish. Of course he doesn't want to look at me. As I said, I'm a fire-mutt. A mess of scars and bones. Who would want that?

But his rejection stings more than I expected it to. I try to stop the tears but of course they come. Seems like I cry at the drop of a hat these days. I sniffle and his eyes fly to my face. I avoid his eyes though and bend down to pick up the towel. He picks it up for me and presses it into my hands. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and step out of the tub, holding the towel closed. I feel his hand on my cheek and I squeeze my eyes shut. But his hand wipes away my tears and he grips my face with both hands.

"What's wrong?" I don't answer. I merely shrug and he cups my chin.

"Katniss," he says gently. "Talk to me."

"How do we do this, Peeta?" I finally look at him and see him watching me in confusion.

"Do what?"

"How do we be together if you don't even want to look at me?"

"Katniss, I…" I look at him and see him bite his lip. My jaw drops in realization. He never said he wanted to be with me in that way. He just didn't want me to die. What the hell is the matter with me? Why did I assume he wanted any kind of intimacy? I want to cry from embarrassment. I lower my face to my hands and turn away. In doing so, my towel falls into the water and I hear Peeta gasp. But he doesn't pick it up and he doesn't move away. Instead, I feel him turn me to face him and he takes my face in his hands. His thumbs wipe at the corner of my eyes and he leans in and kisses me deeply. He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes.

"You have no idea," he says, breathing heavily, "no idea of the effect you still have. It is taking every once of strength I posses to still be a gentleman here." I lean into his touch and shake his head.

"You don't have to lie for my benefit," I say gently. "I know I'm not pretty. I don't want to disgust you with this…with these scars." His eyes snap open and bore into mine. I can't quite make out what I see there though. Shock, for sure. But also…desire? Disbelief? Irritation? I'm not really sure.

"You're kidding me, right?" When my brow furrows, he huffs.

"Katniss. You have lost your damn mind if you believe I could ever think of you as anything other than beautiful. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. I mean, you couldn't even look at me when I was dying," he adds with a chuckle.

"This is different," I say somewhat awkwardly. "I've…changed. My body has changed, I mean. I'm a…fire-mutt," I finish dejectedly. He pulls away and stares at me in wonder.

"You really believe that, don't you," he says quietly. It isn't really a question. He shakes his head and pulls away, straightening up. I feel his eyes travel all over my body and I fight not to cover myself up with my arms. Instead, they hang by my side, my fists clenching and unclenching. I see him taking me in. But when his eyes meet mine again, I start at what I see. Love. Pure, unadulterated love and want. Desire burns in his eyes. He is looking at me like I am the most precious treasure in the world. Suddenly I am feeling weak again and I start to fall back into the tub. He catches me and holds me in his arms. He simply stares into my eyes for a moment before he leans down and kisses me.

"So beautiful," he whispers as he nuzzles my face. Without breaking eye contact, he carries me back to his bed and sets me on the blankets. He kneels on the bed in front of me and lifts his shirt over his head. I move to my knees so I can run my fingers over his strong chest. It is decorated with scars, like mine. But he is so beautiful, his muscles prominent and blonde hairs stretch down his chest and become a fine line that leads into his pants. My hands follow that trail and stop at the waistband of his pants. He sucks in a breath as I tug gently but he quickly pulls them off and flings them aside. My eyes fly to the bulge between his legs and I blush. Even through his boxers, I can tell he is quite big. But I also realize that I am doing this to him. That this desire is for me and my scarred body. He brings his hands up and rests them on my shoulders, his fingers trailing across my skin. He watches his hands as they drift lower and rest on my heaving breasts. We both let out small moans as he cups me in both hands, his thumbs making gentle patterns over my nipples. They become hardened peaks and he gasps at the reaction. He pulls me to him and captures my mouth with his. This kiss is different. It's hungry and full of something I don't know how to name. But I find that I want it. I need it. I need him.

His lips break away from mine far too soon but I moan as they attach to my flesh on my neck and make their way down to my chest, where his tongue circles around my nipple before his mouth closes around my breast. I grab his head and hold him in place, my fingers running through his hair. His fingers are playing with the other breast as he lavishes this one with his mouth. He tears away to suck at the other one before he moves his mouth back to mine. I'm falling backwards and he gently lowers me to my back as his body is hovering over mine. He is between my legs and I feel his erection right against my center. I squirm a little, making both of us groan again. He takes my breast in his mouth again, and I notice his hand trailing lower and lower, until it is tracing patterns on the inside of my thigh. He pushes my legs apart and I feel his tentative fingers cross over the juncture between my thighs. I gasp loudly as his thumb brushes against a bundle of nerves and I tremble underneath him. He kisses up and down my belly as I feel his finger enter inside me and I instinctively clench around him. He groans deeply as he pushes inside me deeper and withdraws, keeping his thumb against those nerves. He applies a little pressure to his thumb as he pushes his finger back in. I feel feverish again; I'm the girl on fire once more. Peeta has set me aflame. He adds a second finger and is thrusting his hand in and out, continuing to make frantic circles with his thumb. I feel something wonderful happening, but whatever it is, it's just out of reach. My hips jerk and I moan loudly.

"P-Peeta! Something's…something's happening!" And then something extraordinary happens and I feel like I am flying. Peeta kisses my belly button, then kisses up my chest and comes back to my mouth as he pulls his hand from between my legs. I breathe heavily and blink up at him, dazed. He smiles down at me and kisses me deeply.

"You are so fucking perfect," he growls. I am instantly wet between my legs again. He is lying over me, still clothed and I reach down and try to tug them down. He moves quickly, removing his boxers and sighing with relief when he tosses them aside. I feel his throbbing length against my center and he rubs against me, moaning my name. I reach between us and grasp him, causing him to gasp and jerk his hips. I spread my legs underneath him; we need no words as he finds me wet and wanting. He slowly pushes in, then decides against it and with one quick thrust, he is completely inside me. I wince at the brief pain but quickly push through it. I have been through much worse than this and besides, this is the most exquisite pain I have ever felt. He stays still for a moment but as I move my hips, he groans and begins to move as well.

He rises up on his arms and thrusts into me, his eyes finding mine.

"God Katniss, you're so tight," he gasps. "So perfect. I love you so much." And there it is. The words I thought he could never say, that I would never hear again. And I find that hearing them is even better than this wonderful feeling of being with him like this. It makes it all that better. Our connection is so intense, I feel tears forming. I pull him down to kiss me and I arch my back, clenching around him. Droplets of sweat drip from his nose onto my breasts and I relish these feelings. I feel myself approaching that indescribable joy again and I tighten even more around him. He gasps as he increases his thrusts, racing toward his own completion. Wanting him to feel as incredible as I feel, I lean up and wrap my fingers in his hair, bringing his ear to my lips.

"I love you too," I whisper. With a groan that makes me quake, he empties inside of me and collapses on my chest. Our breathing is heavy as our hearts race together and I clutch him to me, holding him close. He rolls us to the side, still connected, and I bury my face into his chest. I can feel his heart racing beneath my cheek. This heart is mine and beats only for me, as it always has. Peeta, always being able to read my mind, looks down at me and smiles.

"You are mine. Real or not real?" I smile and decide maybe this game isn't so bad after all.

"Real."


End file.
